


"Taylor Swift Is My Kryptonite" and Other Revelations About Danny Castellano

by withthepilot



Category: Mindy Project
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, F/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/withthepilot/pseuds/withthepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between a very public breakup, an awkward bout of office sex, and the holiday season degrading into a general pile of suck, December 2012 is one of the most frustrating months of Mindy's life. Plus, there's the nagging fact that Danny has been acting so <i>weird</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Taylor Swift Is My Kryptonite" and Other Revelations About Danny Castellano

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceridweyn_lin (talia_ae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/talia_ae/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide, ceridweyn_lin! Hope this fulfills all your rom-commy wishes and expectations. :D
> 
> Thanks to my beta and cheerleaders, who know who they are.

By the time Gwen shows up, it's half past eleven in the morning and Mindy is on her fourth glass of wine and page twenty-eight of the new Free People catalog. She's also lying on the living room rug, halfway covered with a purple Slanket.

"No, but seriously, Gwen," she slurs. She somehow manages to hold the catalog open and hang on to her glass at the same time. There might be some spillage. Just a little. It's an old rug. "Tell me I would not totally rock this ruffled maxi skirt. It's only two hundred dollars! Man, that is a fucking _steal_."

Gwen frowns and locks the door behind her. "You know just as well as I do that no one on Earth can rock a maxi skirt. Also, what have I told you about hanging out on the floor?"

"I can. And whatever, it's clean." Mindy gets to her feet with Gwen's help and sprawls on the couch instead. "But okay, well, what about this quilted leather vest? It's distressed."

"No, _I'm_ distressed and I'm going to be more distressed if you spend…" She grabs the catalog as she sits on the remaining free space on the sofa. "Six hundred and fifty dollars, oh, my god. Though, actually…that is kinda cute."

"Right? Though I'm kinda trying to stick to vegan leather right now, so."

Gwen looks between the catalog and the emptied bottle and sighs. "Babe. You know spending thousands of dollars on ugly clothes and…I don't know, moccasins, won't make you feel better, right?"

Mindy knows. But she doesn't want to admit it, not quite yet. The wound is still fresh, having been sliced open just a few hours ago, when Mindy had the pleasure of hosting The Worst Christmas Party in the Entire History of the World—the one that'll go down in the history books for its juicy mélange of calculated lies, a disgusting ex-boyfriend literally _running_ out the door, and the destruction of the most perfect gingerbread house Mindy had ever seen outside of a Hallmark movie. She tried so hard, what with the personalized gift bags adorned with Josh's stupid face and paying extra for the fancy cupcakes topped with buttercream frosting _and_ chocolate ganache. Clearly, that kind of decadence does not go unpunished in the modern world. Mindy supposes it's a lesson she was destined to learn: Insist on extra fancy party treats, end up with your friends handing you tissues between crying jags in the kitchen.

"Better moccasins than cupcakes," she says, grunting. "I should have listened to that _New York Magazine_ article about how cupcakes are over. It was bad karma from the start. I am so switching to doughnuts."

"Actually, I think it's all about churros now."

"Those are just long, skinny, ethnic doughnuts. They're like the Gisele of doughnuts."

Gwen purses her lips, patient as always. "Has he said anything? Since he left?"

"Who, Josh? Yeah. Lots of things." Mindy puts on the dumbest voice she can to imitate him, sitting up and rearranging her Slanket. "'You're the only girl for me' and 'Hey baby, I've got courtside seats for the Nets tonight, right next to Jay and Bey!'" She shuts her eyes and exhales. "It is one thing to lie and cheat, but when you drag Beyoncé into it and try to _use her against me_ , well. That is the last fucking straw."

"I'm so sorry," Gwen says. She scoots close to Mindy on the couch and hugs her tightly. "What can I do?"

Mindy sags into the embrace, allowing herself to deflate for the first time all day. She can feel the anger seeping from her limbs, leaving nothing behind but exhaustion. She liked Josh, she really did, but Mindy refuses to shed tears over him—she did enough of that with Tom and this is small potatoes in comparison. Still, she takes the opportunity to lean on Gwen while it's there. Gwen has seen Mindy at her worst, her best, and her batshit insanest. She knows instinctively that tomorrow her place will be right here at Mindy's side, burning pairs of Josh's left-behind underwear and signing him up for Bath & Body Works emails. And she knows that right now, Mindy just needs her here, for this and nothing more.

Gwen is the best. Mindy tells her so all the time but it's probably still not enough.

"Just don't let me buy any maxi skirts," Mindy mumbles. Gwen rubs her back in large, sweeping circles.

"I would never. Friends don't let friends wear sacks made for string beans in public."

"First rule in the handbook."

"I dog-eared the page in my copy."

*

Mindy cancels her appointments for a couple of days, which is a vast improvement over the two weeks she needed after things ended with Tom. The first day off is spent wreaking Joshmageddon with Gwen and ignoring his calls and texts. On the second day, she watches three of her favorite rom-coms and eats a lot of peanut butter out of the jar, because she can. Josh only calls once and texts twice. The last one reads, _Ok, I get it. Call me when you think you can forgive me?_

For a moment, Mindy thinks seriously about deleting his number from her phone. Instead, she edits his name to "GROSS EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING DO NOT CALL EVER EVER EVER" and saves it with a decisive press of her thumb.

On the day she returns to work, Mindy picks out a colorful, flattering outfit and makes herself a healthy egg-white omelet with lots of cheese so it's not _too_ healthy. When she gets to the office, everyone looks at her with wide, supportive, we-are-so-here-for-you-if-you-start-sobbing eyes. It's alarming.

"Hey, guys," she says with a cheery smile. "I brought doughnuts!"

"Oh, Doctor L. You are so strong," Morgan says. He walks up to Mindy and wraps his arms around her for a warm, if not jarring, hug. "Sublimating your feelings with gifts for others. Seriously, your parents raised an exceptional woman."

"Help me, someone? Anyone?" Mindy squeaks. "I'm having kind of a Sigourney Weaver moment over here."

"Morgan, stop!" Shauna says. "And ignore him, Doctor L. We're all just so glad to see you. How are you doing?"

She does that concerned head tilt that people automatically do when someone is grieving, as if the gravity of the situation renders them incapable of holding their heads up. Mindy rolls her eyes, wriggles free from Morgan's grasp, and tosses the greasy bag of doughnuts on the front desk.

"Okay, how long do I have to put up with the walking on eggshells? Just let me know so I can schedule it in my GCal."

"We figured you were grieving! You've been quoting _Love, Actually_ on your Facebook for the past two days. You always do that after you get dumped." Betsy motions toward Mindy's office. "Plus, your office is overflowing with flowers and giant teddy bears holding balloons that say 'I'm sowwy.'"

"Okay, let's get one thing straight," Mindy says, holding up a finger. "I did not get dumped. I was the _other woman_. It's a lot cooler and more risqué. And furthermore, I am _fine_. I'm in a great mood and I'm ready to see some patients and shove cold metal instruments between their legs."

Betsy wrinkles her nose and Shauna sighs, her head tilt increasing in its angle.

"You sure you're okay, Doctor L? I can push back some more appointments, or maybe get you a hazelnut latte?"

Mindy starts to walk toward her office. "No to the pushing back, yes to the hazelnut latte. But make sure they use Stevia and not regular sugar. I ate a lot of peanut butter yesterday."

The latte turns out to be a great pick-me-up for the remainder of the morning. Mindy manages to make it through three appointments before she ends up back in her office, looking at her phone that's no longer buzzing like crazy with Josh's texts. She looks down at the part of her desk not crowded with apology bouquets and her brain treats her to a mental picture of Josh's desk at his office, crowded with stupid tchotchkes, awards, and empty energy drink cans. Then, almost immediately, there's a second mental picture of Josh and his so-called "real" girlfriend going at it on said desk, Josh manhandling her as though he's never seen a miniskirt before.

She must look pretty downtrodden because Betsy and Morgan suddenly burst into the room, all bright smiles and sunshine, brandishing takeout containers.

"This is a time for comfort food, so I got you a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup from the diner," Betsy says.

"And a diet peach Snapple," Morgan adds. "They tried to stick us with a diet lemon but I was all, 'Don't try to pull a fast one on _me_ , buddy. Save it for one of your other worthless customers. This is a diet peach-only office, got it?'"

"Actually, I like the lemon," Danny says, sticking his stupid face into the room, where it doesn't belong.

"That's because you were dropped on your head as a child," Mindy says.

"What's going on here?" Danny says, motioning to the others. "Why is everyone being so nice to you?"

"Danny, be considerate! It's only been two days since the P-A-R-T-Y!" Betsy says, stage whispering.

"Okay, Betsy, we can all spell," Mindy says. "But thanks."

"I hope the soup isn't too hot," Becky continues. "I told them not to make it too hot." She pauses and bites her lip. "Oh, god. I hope it isn't cold."

"Oh, right, the party," Danny says. He walks into the office with his arms folded across his chest. "That was pretty rough. In fact, why are you here? I figured you'd be holed up at home, eating cake and ordering monogrammed galoshes."

"Okay, I only did that once and they were super cute. And I'm here because I'm _fine_."

"Doc," Morgan says, "I just wanted to put it out there that I know I'm on probation, but if you need this dude to meet with an unfortunate accident, I know a guy who can lend me a pair of handcuffs and some feral cats."

"Guys. You are the sweetest and I adore you. Now, please go away."

Morgan and Betsy leave as asked but Danny, ever the charmer, sticks around, taking a seat across from Mindy even as she unwraps her sandwich.

"Uhh, you were included in that directive," she says. Danny shrugs and crosses his legs, getting comfortable.

"Look, I'm sorry that it ended this way. Personally, I thought he'd bite the dust once he said he didn't want to see the new Gerard Butler movie with you. I never thought there'd be another woman involved. I mean, not _again_."

Mindy forgoes her well-deserved bite of melty, gooey goodness to shoot Danny the most blistering glare she can muster. "I'm really sorry that you were there to see all of that happen because it's none of your gross and disgusting business. But whatever, yes, he turned out to be a jerk. Most guys do, present company included. And all he ever did was guzzle energy drinks and brag about his shower. Really, I dodged a bullet. A…rich and handsome bullet." She shifts uncomfortably in her chair. "Just, you know, dodged that sucker."

Danny tsks. "Man, it's just not your year, is it? Well, he was only around for…what? Two, three months?" He motions to the sandwich. "Nothing that a few days of eating your feelings can't fix."

She hates herself for it, but she puts the sandwich down. _Asshole._

"I _really_ don't think you're one to talk, considering that you couldn't keep your wife interested in you for more than five minutes. Oh, I'm sorry, ex-wife. Because your marriage crashed and burned. Or have you already forgotten?"

Danny's mouth twists sourly before he stands up again. "Well, enjoy your calorie fest that your fellow enablers were so kind as to give you. I swear to god, you break a friggin' nail and everybody in this place trips over themselves to coddle you."

"Yeah, it's so weird, how people are nice to me. It's almost as if they _like_ me. But that's a foreign concept to you, right? You know, when people like you? Congenial human interaction? Whoa, did I just totally blow your mind?"

Danny scoffs as he heads out. "People like me."

"False," Mindy calls. "Thoroughly false. Try again."

She looks down at her sandwich and sighs before taking that overdue first bite. It's still good but maybe not _quite_ as good as it would have been before. The soup is indeed cold.

*

In a way, Mindy decides, Danny is right. She's a successful, brilliant, and hot-ass thirty-something woman—a highly skilled doctor and total catch and a half who shouldn't be wasting her time, eating Ben & Jerry's for days over a blowhard with pointy eyebrows, who was probably the only person keeping Monster Energy Drinks in business. She's evolved too much as a person to spend time after a breakup eating everything in sight and crying over Meg Ryan movies she can already recite by heart.

So when Jeremy walks into her office that night after everyone else has gone home and asks, "Need some company?" she decides that _evolving as a person_ means getting one's panties off before the windows shades are even drawn.

Sure, one could argue that it's essentially a case of falling into old habits. But Jeremy is familiar and he smells astounding and he screws Mindy into her desk like she's the new attachable hutch that just arrived from Raymour & Flanigan. The future bruises on her lower back will be worth it.

" _Jesus_ ," she manages after it's done, her leg still draped over his shoulder. "If you did that with your patients, I would have none left. Zero. They'd all be like, 'Screaming Os before hoes, Doctor L. Peace.'"

He looks up with a crooked grin. "They would say 'hoes'? How very saucy. Even the older ones?"

"Especially the older ones. God, shut up, I can't think after that."

There's a little bead of sweat on Jeremy's upper lip and on anyone else it would be nasty, but Mindy can't help but lean in to lick it away. And because it's Jeremy, this little gesture quickly escalates to filthy, gasping, so-much-tongue-it's-gotta-be-sinful kissing, her hands scrabbling all over his back and shoulders as she tries to hang on.

"You want to go again?" he asks breathlessly.

"Yes, which I can't believe because usually I want to go take a bath and fall asleep reading my Kindle after just once."

"You're very sexy when you talk spinsterhood, do you know that?" Jeremy starts grinding into her again, until she squeaks and pushes at his shoulders.

"Ew, no. New condom, please. You're not sexing me up with the same raincoat that just got soaked from the previous thunderstorm. And I know for a fact you always carry at least, like, eight, so go get one."

He grins again as he carefully pulls out. "Thunderstorm, eh?" he asks. Mindy waves a hand.

"Stop it. You were there. That's not cute."

Almost as soon as Jeremy lets go of her, a bright light floods into the room and Mindy shrieks when she spots Danny standing in the doorway, gaping at them. She grabs Jeremy by the arms and pulls him flush against her as a human shield. Danny curses and shields his eyes even as he turns his head away.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, what the hell are you two _doing_?"

"What are _you_ doing, Danny?" Mindy yells back. "I thought you went home!"

"I thought _you_ went home! I've been holed up in my office for the past few hours doing actual _work_ , and when I saw the light under your door I thought I'd come in and…" He drops his hand slightly only to bring it right back up to his eyes again. "Jeremy, dude, can you cover up your tanned ass over there?"

"It's a healthy shade!" Jeremy protests.

"Oh, you thought you'd just barge in here uninvited? _Rude_. You know what happens when people are rude barger-inners? They get an eyeful of British butt."

"Yeah, well," Danny fumes. "Clearly I should've thought that through a little more, being nice to you. I should keep your complete lack of professionalism in mind for the future and completely avoid talking with you or even looking at you."

Jeremy glances down at himself. "Honestly, it's a very toned bottom. You could do a lot worse."

"Why are you even still here?" Mindy hisses. "Seriously, Castellano, get the hell out of here!"

"With pleasure," Danny snarls, just before he slams the door behind him. Jeremy and Mindy both wince and hesitate before looking at each other.

"Shall I still fetch that condom?" he offers. "I don't have eight, exactly, but I do have enough for another round or two. Three."

She shakes her head and exhales, still rattled. "I don't even know why I wanted to do it in my office anyway. Let's, uh, go to your place."

"Why not yours? You've got those comfy pillows."

"Um, not tonight. It's still a wreck from the party."

Which isn't exactly a lie but also not exactly true. As far as Mindy's concerned, her apartment is still the scene of the crime; having sex there right now could be cathartic, but more likely, it would be nerve-wracking and give her hives. But what Jeremy doesn't know won't bother his pretty British head.

Later that night—or, rather, early that morning—when Jeremy is fast asleep in bed beside her, Mindy grabs her phone and tries to assuage the gnawing feeling in her gut with a text to Danny.

_Didn't mean to yell at you earlier. I was freaked out. Let's just pretend like it never happened, ok?_

She's not surprised that Danny is still awake and that he texts her back almost immediately.

 _Like what never happened?_ he writes.

 _Right, exactly. Thx_ , she replies.

But this time, he doesn't text back.

*

"Knock knock, Doctor L," Shauna says, carrying a large bouquet of lilies into Mindy's office. "Looks like you're not quite done with the gifts."

"Seriously?" Mindy asks, looking up from her work. "I thought Josh had gotten the message by now. Or at least that he'd be off banging a New York Knicks cheerleader."

Shauna puts the vase down on Mindy's desk. "Guess you left your mark on him."

Mindy sighs and waits until Shauna is gone to read the card. She's surprised to find that it only says, "To Dr. Mindy Lahiri." No traces of Josh's weird messages like, _Can't we talk this over in my king-sized bed?_ or _I promise I'll never hurt you again—Jeremy Lin can vouch for me_.

She looks up and spies Danny walking by her office and flags him inside. "Danny, Danny! C'mere."

"Oh, now you _want_ me to come in?"

"Can we put all jerkitude aside, just for a second?" When he rolls his eyes and walks in, Mindy motions between them. "I just want to make sure—are we okay?"

"Why wouldn't we be?" he says, thumbing through patient files.

"I'm trying to have a normal exchange with you, Danny. Just tell me if we're okay."

"We're fine." He closes his folder and spots the bouquet on the desk. "Nice flowers. Who're they from?"

She waves a hand. "Oh, Josh is still trying to get me back. And since we are never, ever, ever getting back together—"

"Please don't start singing."

"—he's wasting his time." She tilts her head and smiles. "I really enjoy how Taylor Swift is your kryptonite."

Danny smiles wryly and taps his folder against his knuckles. "You, uh…wanna talk about it?"

"About Taylor Swift? Yes, always, especially her dalliances with the Kennedys. But I doubt you would enjoy it."

"About your _breakup_. It's clear that this guy really hurt you." He scratches the back of his head and shifts uncomfortably where he stands, as if this display of concern is offending his delicate sensibilities. It probably is. But then his expression goes somewhat serious. "He did hurt you, right?"

Mindy blinks, not exactly knowing what to make of all of this. Eventually, she realizes her mouth is open and she shuts it abruptly, her teeth knocking together. "Wow. That's…kind of sweet of you, Danny. Out of character, but." She glances down at her own paperwork and chooses her words carefully. "I don't really feel comfortable talking about it with you. If that's okay. I mean, it was one thing at the party but we're not really friends, and—"

"What are you talking about? We're friends. We, uh…went clubbing that time, remember?"

She laughs. "Yeah, with everyone else in the office."

"We've ridden the subway together."

"I've ridden the subway with, like, half of New York City by now."

"Well, I told you about my dad, didn't I?"

Mindy pauses, not knowing what to say to that. The wheels turn quickly and she's close to changing her mind when Danny holds his hands up and takes a step back.

"All right, you know what? Never mind. Friends or not, I'm not gonna pry. But the offer stands. To talk about it. If you want. To do such a thing."

"Okay, well, I appreciate it, Danny." She smiles and nods at him. "Thanks."

When he's gone, the door shut behind him, Mindy picks up her phone and calls Gwen immediately.

"My life is so confusing right now," she says, in place of a greeting. "Please tell me you know of a sample sale we can go to this afternoon, or one of those old-timey ice cream places where all the servers have curly handlebar moustaches."

"There's a place just like that right near me! I can be there at three."

"You are killing it in the friendship department this week. I just want you to know that."

*

A few days later, Mindy arrives at work to find yellow roses and tiger lilies on her desk. Which makes her do something she really, really, doesn't want to do: disobey her cell phone. When she presses the speaker button and puts the phone down on her desk, only to see "Now dialing GROSS EXCUSE FOR A HUMAN BEING DO NOT CALL EVER EVER EVER" paired with said gross excuse's annoyingly handsome face, she can swear that the phone is judging her.

"Mindy!" Josh says, picking up. "I didn't think you'd—I mean, I was wondering when you'd call. Finally."

"Stop sending me flowers already, you freak. I'm _not_ taking you back so just get it through your thick, bristly head."

"If it helps, I broke up with Heather. Or, well, she broke up with me. But either way, I'm available. You know, for dates, oral sex. Whatever."

"Are you even listening to me? I said we're done, so stop sending me gifts!"

"I'm not sending you gifts. I mean, I was, but after a few days, I figured I might as well save my money for something else. Like a new TV to replace the one that Heather broke."

"Good. I hope she destroys everything _you_ own, especially after she wrecked all of _my_ stuff. Which reminds me—one of you owes me a new microwave."

Josh sighs. "I'll send you a new microwave. Unless that counts as a gift."

"I'll make an exception if it's top of the line. A convection microwave. In red, like the one that your psycho ex broke."

"Jeez. I think you're even more high maintenance now than you were when we were going out."

"And you are—and always have been—the fucking worst."

Mindy presses "end" abruptly and Josh's dumb grinning face finally disappears, hopefully for good. She's embarrassed by the sudden realization of how right she is. Josh has always been a generally horrid person, from his disgusting pickup lines to the way he flaunts his money, and how whenever he would say or do something extremely sweet, it was almost always right after he did something hurtful. Mindy supposes she was willing to overlook it because he was so handsome, successful, and yes, charming. It was worth all the crap just to be able to say that she had a boyfriend who other women could be jealous about—which, really, is a terrible reason for dating anyone. She can’t help but feel ashamed.

When Morgan walks in to hand her some patient test results, he immediately notices the sorrowful look on her face.

"What happened, Doctor L? Whose face do you need me to bash in? It's probably a misdemeanor, but I would do it, for you."

Mindy looks up and exhales. "Morgan, when did I unknowingly become a perpetrator of girl-on-girl crime?"

Morgan's eyes widen in alarm. He scurries over to one of the empty chairs and leans over the desk, whispering.

"Doc, I don't know what you did and I don’t need to know. But I know a guy who's got a great safe house in Canarsie. Real nice, all the comforts of home: George Foreman grill, flushable toilet. So we'll just hang out there for a while, until the bruises start to fade, and then—"

"I'm…speaking metaphorically, Morgan. I mean that I was only going out with Josh because it made other women jealous and that made me feel good."

"Because it made other women jealous or because it made you feel complete?"

"Excuse me?" she asks, her brow furrowed.

"He probably fit neatly into all of your teenage fantasies, right? The perfect guy with the perfect job who knows how to diddle your skittles—"

" _What_?"

"I'm saying that you thought he was the whole package and that's what kept you interested in him, despite the fact that he was really a raging douche all along. The guy was like a Disney prince. But the movie kept going after the credits were over. And the horse and carriage fell into a ditch and now the carriage is ruined and the horse is all twitchy. He'll never ride again."

"Your prison wisdom never fails to astound me," Mindy whispers.

"Mindy, darling," Jeremy says, walking into the room. "Are you free for dinner tonight?"

"Oh, uh…sure," she answers, surprised. Jeremy has never been one for dinner or just about anything that takes place in the periphery of sex. Morgan squints and looks between them, waving a finger in the air.

"Oh, so _this_ is on now?" He shrugs, assessing the situation. "I mean, I won't say I haven't thought about it once or twice…"

"Private thoughts, Morgan," Mindy says, tapping her temple. "Private thoughts."

"Yes, please," Jeremy adds, cringing momentarily. "Well, great. I'll come fetch you after my last appointment." He pauses when he spies the new bouquet on Mindy's desk. "Is that another gift from Josh?"

She rolls her eyes. "Yes, but he tried to deny that he was sending them."

"Well, we don't need that kind of bad juju around here," Morgan says. He snatches the flowers right out of the vase and heads to the main desk, picking up the paper shredder and shoving the flowers inside, to the vocal dismay of everyone.

On the other side of the office, Danny looks up from his paperwork, takes in the scene, and then goes into his office, slamming the door behind him.

"On second thought, I don't think the shredder was made for this," Morgan says.

Jeremy shakes his head. "No, definitely not."

*

Later, when Mindy is waiting for Jeremy to be done with his appointment, she changes the date in her perpetual calendar for the next day and realizes that December is nearly over. The Christmas party was such a mess and now that she's emerging from the haze of melodrama, the looming specter of New Year's has officially sneaked up on her. She was supposed to go to some big party with Josh, sponsored by Beats by Dr. Dre, but now that's all over and everyone else she knows has plans—plans that don't involve hip-hop moguls, but plans nonetheless.

Or, well, probably not _everyone_ , she thinks as Danny knocks on the door. He's got his hand clasped over his eyes because he's a jerk that way.

"Is the coast clear?"

"How many more times do you plan on referring to that night? Because I'm going to start locking my door."

"That was the last one, promise." Danny lowers his hand and does that goofy little half-smile he does, the one that almost makes him look cute. Almost. "What's going on? You wanna catch a drink at happy hour with me?"

Mindy blinks in surprise. The invitation is so random and out of the blue that she feels kind of bad that she can't say yes. "Sorry, I have dinner plans tonight."

"Oh, okay, cool."

There's an awkward moment where Danny looks like he's deciding whether to say something else or to leave. Mindy clears her throat and asks a question she knows she shouldn't.

"So, um, just out of curiosity, Danny, what are your plans for New Year's Eve?"

"You know, nothing much. Just figured I'd hang out with some buddies, go bar hopping or whatever. How about you?"

She taps her fingernails against the desk and musters a small smile. "I don't know, really. I was supposed to go to a party with Josh, but that's not happening. Obviously. I'll probably just hang out at home and watch movies or something."

"Right." He scratches the back of his neck and shrugs. "Well, I mean, if you wanted to—"

"Hello, Mindy," Jeremy interrupts, appearing in the doorway. "Ready to go?"

Danny looks between them. "You're going out to dinner together? The two of you?"

"Yeah," Mindy says, standing and grabbing her coat. "Why, is that a problem?"

"No, uh, that's cool. I mean, I've got dinner plans, too. A date, you know." He hooks a thumb backwards, as if his date is waiting for him right outside. Except that there's no one there.

Mindy arches a brow. "I thought you didn't have plans, hence the drink invitation?"

"I just remembered I did. I always have plans."

Danny looks at both of them with a challenging glare, daring them to argue, and then turns to leave the room.

"Peculiar little man," Jeremy murmurs.

"I think he was trying to be nice to me. Again. So weird."

Jeremy makes a thoughtful sound and reaches out to turn off the light.

*

The dinner is great by Mindy's standards. It's a fancy restaurant and Jeremy is probably the best-looking guy in the entire place. Not that Mindy is interested in that anymore. In fact, she's kind of over "studly" and "charming" as key attributes in a potential boyfriend slash future husband and father of her four children—the children that Danny claimed once are fictional and will never happen for her. Mindy still thinks about that sometimes and gets sad all over again. Danny always knows the exact worst things to say, the stuff that gets so far under her skin that even Beyoncé Pad Thai can't dig it out, not even with her killer designer nails.

Speaking of Danny, he keeps texting Mindy to ask what restaurant they went to. Apparently he didn't make reservations for his own date and now he needs a good backup place.

_Ew, I don't want you having a date in the same place where I'm having a date. That's incestuous._

_How is it incestuous?? Okay, fine, I don't actually have a date. I just need to tell you something._

_Right now?? Just tell me like this._

_Fine. You're making a big mistake._

"Everything all right?" Jeremy asks, sipping his wine. "Is one of your friends having an accessory-related emergency?"

"While that's usually the case, no. Danny is just being weird and freaking out over something."

Jeremy's phone buzzes then, too, and he picks it up and starts typing. "Huh. I see."

"Wait, did you just get a text from him, too?"

"Yes, he wants to know the name of the restaurant we're in because he needs a good place to take his date."

"And you _told him_? Oh, my god. He's going to do something weird. Something weird and…and cranky and hairy."

Jeremy narrows his eyes. "How does one do something hairy?"

"I don't know, but Danny would find a way."

"So he doesn't have a date?"

"No," Mindy says, pushing her salad around her plate. "He's a freak who wants to ruin any chance I have for happiness or true love because _he's_ alone and miserable and he wants everyone else to be, too."

"Ah, that kind of segues into something I wanted to discuss, actually," Jeremy says. But he can't finish his thought because Danny bounds into the restaurant's dining area at that moment and makes a beeline for their table, looking keyed up and pissed off. And, yes, cranky and hairy.

"Mindy, I need to talk to you," he says.

She holds up a hand to shut him down. "Okay, first of all, no. Second of all, anything you want to say to me, you can say in front of both of us."

"I don't think that's a great idea. I need to talk to you alone. Failing that, I'll talk to Jeremy."

Jeremy dabs at his mouth with his napkin and starts to get up. "All right, let's go to the men's room. They have mints."

"Sit your crumpet down, Reed," Mindy hisses, reaching over and forcing him back into his chair. She glares up at Danny. "You have been acting so _weird_ ever since the party."

"What, being nice to you is weird?"

" _Yes_ ," Mindy says. Jeremy nods in agreement.

"It is a bit alarming, Danny."

Danny shakes his head, laughing under his breath and stepping away from the table. "Jesus, this is perfect. This is totally what I get for taking an interest in you as a friend and trying to help you out of another potential mess."

"What _mess_?"

"This!" Danny yells, gesturing wildly to the two of them. "You think this is going to be some kind of magical love connection? This guy bangs anything that moves!"

Other people in the restaurant start to take notice of the commotion and Jeremy inches down in his chair.

"That's hardly fair. That would include automobiles and animals and such."

"I know you're on the rebound," Danny continues. "But I saw you crying at that party and I think I know you well enough by now to know what you're looking for. So believe me when I tell you that this is not it."

Mindy gapes, feeling more flustered than she can ever remember—aside from when she watched Josh's girlfriend destroy her kitchen, which was pretty recent, all things considered. So never mind. December has just been a flustered, devastating, and totally ridiculous month in general.

"Why should I take advice from _you_ , Danny? You're just as messed up as I am! First you make up some crap about having a date tonight and then you barge in on ours and try to ruin it?"

"That's…actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Mindy. Why I asked you to dinner tonight." Jeremy crumples his napkin in his lap with both hands and the pitying look in his eyes is enough to tell Mindy that this evening is quickly going to turn into another one for the record books, at the top of the entry labeled _awkward_. "I realize how much Josh hurt you and while I'm happy to keep shagging you into next Sunday, I feel that you're looking for something…more." He pauses and shrugs. "And, to be honest, I'm not."

Mindy swallows, her throat feeling dry. "So…this isn't a date."

"It could be," Jeremy says. "But a friendly one, at most."

"Okay…great." Mindy throws her napkin down on her plate and stands, grabbing her coat. "Danny, for once in your life, you were actually right: This was a mistake. All of it, actually. This date, trying to be your friend, working with you, ever having the misfortune of laying eyes on your mushy pug face—all a big mistake." She slides her coat on and shakes her head. "Clearly I hadn't been humiliated enough this month. Thanks a lot for taking care of that."

"Come on," Danny says, his head lolling to the side. "I was just trying to help."

"Well, don't, you gremlin. You suck at it."

"Mindy—"

"No, Danny," she says firmly. She holds her clutch up between them, a sparkly little makeshift shield, and hopes to god she doesn't have tears in her eyes. Not yet. "You're awful. And even more so because you're one of those awful people who doesn't know he's awful. You think you're being nice but you're just horrible. So, seriously, get out of my way and leave me alone."

She hustles out of the restaurant and no one tries to stop her. It's just as well; Jeremy is not the romantic type, as he said so himself, and Danny is too much of a self-obsessed saboteur to do anything genuinely kind. All those rom-coms have skewed Mindy's perception of the world. As she stands on a street corner, dabbing at her running mascara with one hand and trying to flag down a cab with the other, it occurs to her that maybe she should have spent her formative years watching something more productive. Like _Requiem for a Dream_. Over and over again. Because who needs hope, right?

"Right," she says. And the universe confirms it with a passing bus that splashes her shoes with dirty sewer water.

Cool night, universe.

*

It's easy enough to avoid most of the people in the office for the two days Mindy has left before her vacation. She keeps her door shut when she's not busy with appointments and somehow, Jeremy and Danny both gain the good sense not to bother her. It's nothing short of a Christmas miracle. Unfortunately, her luck doesn't extend to her brief visit back home to her family, where she's barraged with endless questions about Josh and his whereabouts. He was supposed to come! Where could he be? Eventually, she tells them that he was gunned down in a shootout in Harlem, which is enough to shut everyone up; her family is terrified of the very idea of Harlem. The Bronx, too.

Before Mindy knows it, she's back home in her Manhattan apartment and New Year's Eve has rolled around. She knows objectively that staying home doesn't make her a loser and all the hoopla around New Year's is just a way of dressing up that one night every year when you drink far too many Cape Cods and make bad mouth-related decisions. Still, she can't help but call Gwen, juuuuust to make absolutely sure she already has plans.

"Well, of course I have plans," Gwen says. "Carl and I are going to stay up and watch the ball drop with Riley."

"Pfft, Riley. Talk about a third wheel, am I right?"

"My daughter is not a third wheel."

"Well, she's not the life of the party, at any rate."

Mindy can practically hear Gwen rolling her eyes. "So, what are your plans for the night?"

"I dunno. Watching movies in my pajamas. Ordering Domino's, maybe."

"Ew, why don't you order a real pizza? You live in New York."

"Okay, you ate just as much Domino's in college as I did and I will never let you forget that, pizza snob. Not for as long as I live."

Gwen scoffs. "We ate it because it was cheap and there was nothing better around."

"I'm just saying. Domino's has always been there for you. Don't knock it."

"Oh, hold on, Riley wants to wish you a Happy New Year."

"What? No," Mindy says, but it's too late, because Riley is already on the phone, babbling in that baby voice of hers that Gwen is too nice to nip in the bud.

"Happy New Year, Mindy. I wuv you."

"Okay, did they teach you in school what a New Year resolution is? Because I'm making one for you, and it's to cut it out with that voice already. With age comes dignity, or so they tell me, and that stuff's not gonna cut the mustard once you get to the first grade. Oh, and love you, too."

"…Bye," Riley says, after a beat. Mindy shakes her head.

"Rude," she murmurs.

She gets another call shortly after she hangs up with Gwen; weirdly enough, it's Morgan. Against her better judgment, she answers.

"Mindy!" he yells in her ear. It's incredibly loud in the background; he must be at some type of bar or party. "Is it okay if I call you Mindy? It's a holiday, so I figured it was okay."

"Uhh, sure, we're not at work. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"Where are you?" he says, still yelling.

"Um…just hanging out at home. Why?"

"Come out to the club! Betsy and I are doing shots with this guy who trains Pomeranians for dog shows!"

"That is bizarre and somehow extremely tempting," Mindy admits. "But I'm pretty sure I'm in for the night."

"Mindy, I'm learning so much," Morgan says, slurring a little. She can't help but laugh.

"That's really great, Morgan. Have a good time, okay? And I'll see you on Wednesday."

"Mindy," Morgan continues, undeterred by her attempt to end the conversation. "Mindy, you know you deserve the best, right? You're fucking amazing. You are an Indian queen. With emeralds and rubies in your hair."

"Well, maybe one day. If I get some rich patients."

"She's a rich giiiiiirl," Morgan starts to sing. "She don't try to hide it, diamonds on the soles of her feeeeeet."

"Shoes," Mindy corrects him. "Bye, Morgan."

At that moment, she thinks the call from Morgan is the strangest thing that will happen to her all night. But that changes around half past eleven, post-Domino's and in the middle of a viewing of _The Proposal_.

When Danny shows up.

"Hey," he says, then holds up a bottle of champagne. "Happy New Year's. I come in peace."

"Why have you come at all?"

"It's New Year's," he answers, blinking. "I was home alone and I figured you were home alone…so let's be alone together."

"That's an oxymoron," Mindy says, but she still steps back to let him in. Danny looks decent, dressed in a leather jacket that's probably not warm enough and a wool scarf. He looks around her apartment as if he's seeing it for the first time and he wasn't here a few weeks ago, watching her life fall to pieces firsthand. "You're the last person I expected to see tonight. I thought you had bar-hopping plans or a hot date. Plus, I'm still mad at you."

"Yeah, about that," he says, stopping to shrug off his jacket. "I'm sorry, okay? I knew Reed was going to be a dick to you somehow, at some point, and I just wanted to spare you from getting hurt again. I went about it all wrong and I'm sorry."

"Okay, first of all, I don't need you to be Prince Charming or Prince Gallant or whoever, coming in on your white steed and saving me from the douche bags of the world. I can handle my own shit, Castellano."

"Fair enough," Danny says, approaching the Domino's box. "Who's Prince Gallant?"

"Like, from Goofus and Gallant."

"I don't think he's a prince." He opens the box to reveal the leftovers. "This up for grabs?"

"Sure. And I dunno, whatever. So not the point." Mindy pushes her hair back from her face and exhales. "Also…I knew he was going to be a dick. I mean, he's Jeremy. He doesn't do relationships. I know that. Objectively."

Danny peers at her, chewing on a slice. "But…you want a relationship."

"Well, yeah."

"Then why did you—"

"Because," she snaps. She shuts her eyes. "Because I thought maybe I'm me and I'm awesome and he would…I dunno. Change his mind. Or something."

"Because you're awesome," Danny repeats, and she can't quite read the inflection in his voice.

"Yes. I know it's stupid, okay?" Mindy hugs herself around her stomach, suddenly very aware of the fact that she's wearing an old college sweatshirt with a ripped collar, drooping low to reveal her shoulder, and boxer shorts that she stole from an old boyfriend about four boyfriends ago. It's not exactly the most flattering outfit—not that she cares what Danny thinks. Not much. "Ugh, I wish you had told me you were coming. I should go change."

"Would you have let me in if you knew?" He picks up the pizza box and takes it to the living room. "And don't change; you look cute."

"I look _cute_?"

"Yeah, you're not dressed like a disco ball, for once. You look comfortable. It's cute." He motions to the television, where the movie is still playing on mute. "What the hell is this?"

"It's _The Proposal_. It's simultaneously super charming and super racist." She waves a hand. "It's kind of problematic."

"Sounds like a blast," he says dryly, unmuting it.

"I still can't believe you're sitting on my couch. How did you even—" She pauses and looks toward her phone, still sitting innocently on the kitchen counter. Danny glances back at her and motions to the champagne, also left on the counter.

"You should put that in the fridge," he says. "Won't be long 'til it's time to crack it open."

Mindy looks at the bottle and squints. "Yeah." She goes to store it in the fridge and furtively texts Morgan with her free hand at the same time.

_Did you tell Danny I was home?? WTF WTF WTF_

_He askd me 2 find out! give jim a break he borght you all thsoe flowers_

_*him not jim_

_What are you talking about? Are you serious?_

_yeap saw his crejdt card bill in the printer. IGNORED THE SSN PROMSIE not into identghy theft. Anyway dude is mad in lorve withu._

_fuk pmerians r the coolest . sooo puffy_

Mindy clutches her phone in both hands and stares at the screen, totally in shock. So the flowers _hadn’t_ been from Josh. Granted, she should have figured that out, given the lack of inane messages that came with the deliveries, but she never would have guessed Danny was sending them, not in a million years. His nice streak has been out of the blue, to say the very least, but _this_ is a revelation. At any rate, now she knows and she's standing in her kitchen, wearing ratty old boxer shorts, of all things—and Danny is in her living room, eating her greasy, nitrate-laden leftovers and putting up with a Sandra Bullock rom-com for some reason.

Maybe Danny really is in love with her. Ugh. Boxer shorts. _Why?_

"I think I'm gonna have to start drinking sooner rather than later, if I'm gonna keep watching this thing," Danny says, rising from the sofa. "Her face scares me."

"Um, why don't you switch to _New Year's Rockin' Eve_ or something? The ball's going to drop soon."

"Yeah, okay. Thank god." He changes the channel and watches as the camera pans over all the happy couples in the massive Times Square crowd, huddling close to each other and shivering in their embraces. "Buncha idiots," Danny says as he joins her in the kitchen. "Who in their right mind would want to stand out in the freezing cold for hours, just to watch the same thing that happens every goddamn year?"

"It's romantic," Mindy says, watching almost blankly as he grabs the champagne and seeks out the corkscrew.

"You think so?" He smiles faintly as he gets to work. "I guess you're the expert."

As soon as the cork goes pop, Mindy decides she can't hold it in any longer.

"Danny, why are you really here?" she asks quietly. He hesitates, just for a moment, then searches for glasses, avoiding her gaze.

"What do you mean? I told you already. I was alone, you were alone…"

"Right, no, I got it, we're both totally alone in the world. Go us. But seriously, how did you know I was here?"

"I just…assumed."

"You _assumed_? You just had a sneaking suspicion that I was sitting on my ass in my apartment, totally alone?"

He bristles as he starts to pour. "Well, you were, weren't you?"

"You had Morgan find out for you," she says. That makes Danny stop and put the bottle down with a small thud.

"Look, do you want me to leave? Because if you want me to leave, I will."

"Just tell me why you're really here!"

"Okay," Danny says, putting his hands up. "That's enough. I'm outta here. I'm not gonna—"

Something sharp seems to pierce through Mindy's gut when Danny moves to leave and she grabs his wrist on instinct. "I know you bought the flowers," she blurts out. And that does make Danny still, his eyes flickering toward the ground.

She's never noticed before how expressive they are—his eyes.

"I wanted to cheer you up," Danny says. He looks trapped but he doesn't make a move to shimmy out of Mindy's grasp, just lets her hold him. And she doesn't let go.

"Wrong. You knew I would think they were from Josh. It was your weird, half-assed, misguided, Castellano way of expressing your feelings for me."

"It wasn't half-assed. Those flowers were expensive."

"Why would you even buy them if I didn't know they were from you?!"

"Why do you need an answer for everything? I told you, it was to cheer you up!"

In the background, the final countdown to the ball drop begins, with Ryan Seacrest and the entire crowd chanting along. Mindy only halfway notices, what with her heart in her throat and her blood pumping with irritation and the sheer frustration that comes with dealing with Danny Castellano, MD—the MD most often useful as shorthand for "Mega Dick."

"So you're just going to do this again, huh? Act like you don't have any feelings? Play emotional chicken with me? This is just like that time with the appointment."

"This is _nothing_ like that."

"It is _totally_ like that," Mindy insists, practically yelling over the countdown and jabbing a finger at Danny. "You couldn't treat me like a regular patient and then you wouldn't admit why because you're emotionally constipated and you need a giant enema up your bitter, pinched asshole!"

The ball drops and the crowd screams "Happy New Year!" on TV. They both stop and glance over at the screen, Mindy's fingertip still prodding Danny's chest.

"I think we're supposed to drink now," Mindy murmurs, drawing her hand back. "Clink glasses or sing 'Auld Lang Syne' or something."

Danny furrows his brow and looks Mindy in the eye, for the first time since he arrived. "I need an enema," he says. "Because my asshole is bitter, is what you're saying." Mindy shifts uncomfortably and shrugs her bare shoulder.

"I mean, it's not an official diagnosis, but."

There's a beat and then Danny laughs. It's not something he does often—in fact, Mindy isn't sure she's _ever_ heard that sound before—so it takes her by surprise. And she's so caught off-guard that she totally doesn't see it coming when Danny clasps her face in both hands and leans in for a swift, stunning, panty-melting kiss. Mindy freezes at first, her flailing limbs unable to keep up with her racing mind, but then she wraps her arms around Danny's shoulder and pulls him closer, making the kiss last. Because, seriously: _panty-melting_.

She was so wrong about this night not getting weirder.

"Okay, what the hell," she whispers when they finally part. "That was kind of awesome. It was like _When Harry Met Sally_ , except with more cursing."

"Emotional chicken," he murmurs. "You win again. Okay? I fold."

"I win," she says, a slow grin taking over her face. Danny looks at her sternly.

"No one likes a gloater."

"I don’t care, I win. I win, I win, I—"

He kisses her again, deeper this time. "I'll keep doing this if I have to. Don't make me."

Mindy laughs and fists her hands in his shirt, shaking her head. "This is so crazy. This has to be, like, the most romantic moment of my entire life, and it's with _you_. What is even happening? Is the sky red now? Are cats and dogs friends?"

"Look, I just didn't feel like spending all my money on flowers anymore, okay?"

"You are the most romantic, Castellano. You're like a walking greeting card. You're like Tom Hanks, if he were two feet shorter."

Danny smirks and touches their foreheads together, toying with the hem of Mindy's sweatshirt. "This looks cute on you. Can I take it off?" And he looks so eager and earnest about it that Mindy can't help but want to mess with him. Just a little.

"Seriously, Danny," she says quietly, batting his hands away. "This is a big deal. I really think we should talk about it."

Danny looks up at her, eyebrows lifted as he assesses the shift in her expression. Finally, he nods and takes a deep breath.

"Okay, let's go inside and—"

"Just kidding!" she says brightly. And she takes off the sweatshirt on her own, dropping it on the floor. "Remember these?" she whispers in a mock coy voice, motioning to her breasts, still covered by her bra—for now. "They missed you and your cold, clinical touch."

Mindy starts off toward her bedroom, pausing only to turn off the TV for good, all festivities and Hollywood romance forgotten. Right now, they couldn't be farther from her mind. When she looks back at Danny, she can tell that he's already wondering what the hell he's gotten himself into. Even so, he has a cocky, determined look on his face as he closes the distance between them—the look she typically only sees in the operating room. The best part of all? This time, Danny doesn't hesitate.

"Come on, Prince Goofus," Mindy says, already undoing his shirt buttons as she ushers him into the bedroom. "I need January to be a million times better than December was, so we've got important work to do."

"I think we can manage that." He steers her toward the bed, kissing along her neck. "Mmm, by the way, Goofus? Also not a prince."

"God, who cares. You're such a jerk."

"Yeah, but you like me."

"Thoroughly false," she says, still grinning as she pulls him down to the mattress.


End file.
